


Parenthesis

by laeb



Category: Actors RPF, Real Person Fiction, The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-25
Updated: 2004-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laeb/pseuds/laeb
Summary: The moments they share are parentheses of the lives they lead. These moments are theirs alone, they won’t ever belong to anyone else.
Relationships: Dominic Monaghan/Elijah Wood, Elijah Wood/Colin Farrell, Orlando Bloom/Colin Farrell
Kudos: 1





	Parenthesis

**Author's Note:**

> Tracy, this one’s for you. You were so excited about it, hope you’ll enjoy.
> 
> (Originally published on my lj in July 2004. Retro-posted to AO3 in March 2020.)

_**Parenthesis**_  
  
  
He’s bending under you, and no matter what people might think you know _this_ is right. This way, you don’t think about Dominic, and he doesn’t think about Orlando – you just _know_ he doesn’t – and the two of you are happy like that. It feels both different and familiar at the same time, ‘cause it’s _you_ and ‘cause it’s _him _and because it’s no one else and it couldn’t be any other way. You never even had to think about how it should be. It just _is_ and you both relish in the peace and joy it brings to you.  
  
Peace, well, ‘cause you don’t worry about what he might think of you, you can simply be yourself and you will never hear a reproach coming from him – you know how it is with him, you feel _secure _with him;  
  
joy ‘cause the smallest of gesture – ruffling his hair, a light punch on the arm, a squeeze of your shoulder, a hand resting at the small of the back, cold beers brought to the bed – brings silly, loony smiles on both your faces, and there’ll be wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and you’ll just feel like kissing those.  
  
  
It simply happened. But oh, boy, did it happen.  
  
They would meet in a cool venue in L.A. or, of late, in a hot London club. They would flirt with the chicks, with the lasses; they would play the roles people have been expecting of them for so long. Then they would leave together, holding unto each other – mutual help not to fall on the hard concrete in their _drunken _state, but they’re actors, aren’t they? – and people would smile indulgently cause they were, well – they were who they were and so they were forgiven for they behaviour.  
  
They would stumble in a taxi, head off to Colin’s place if they are in London or Elijah’s when they meet in Los Angeles, and would barely wait for the door to be closed behind them before jumping each other, tearing clothes off to shreds, fumble cluelessly with buttons and flies and layers; swear at the touch of teasing, wandering hands; curse the alcohol they indulged in and the slight numbness it provoked in them.  
  
At last they would face each other, proud and naked, unashamed of their differences; proud that they are not like _the two others _and relish in this feeling that what they have is theirs alone; it’s not shared with anyone else and it couldn’t anyway.  
  
Think about it ... who would believe them? Who would seriously believe that Elijah Wood and Colin Farrell are shagging each other; that Farrell begs Wood to fuck him hard and fast; that Colin mumbles senseless words and endearments when Elijah is slowly breaching him, making him feel every inch of his cock while it’s filling him? Who would seriously believe such an improbable story?  
  
No one would, simply ‘cause they have a hard time believing it, too. When they’re done, when they’re satiated, when the air smells of hot sex, sweet sweat and soothing tenderness; when the shouts, the cries, the moans are reduced to whispers and murmurs, they will look in the other’s eyes and the expression in the black and blue depths will reflect what both feel: surprise, contentment, relief and happiness.  
  
  
Surprise, well, ‘cause it’s _you_ and ‘cause it’s _him _and everyone think that he’s so well matched with his Dominic and that you and your Orlando are inseparable and the two of you thought that as well until a few months ago;  
  
contentment ‘cause what you have, _together_, is like nothing you’ve ever shared before and you realised early on that you wouldn’t be able to live without it now that you found it – he’s the other part of your soul, the one that completes you where the Brit you share your life with is someone you enjoy spending time with but no more;  
  
relief ‘cause you can’t help but wonder _every single time_ if it’s the last time you will have bent under him, the last time you’ll have felt him breach you wide open, the last time he fills you so completely;  
  
happiness ‘cause he’s got his head on your chest, right where he can feel your heartbeat and he’s leaving sparse, tired kisses on your naked skin; and you hold on him tightly, squeezing once in a while just so he knows you’re still awake. You won’t have to get up in the morning and you know he’ll still be there and there’ll be more of this ... this _everything_ that you share.  
  
And you can’t help but wonder why the two of you are not _together_.  
  
And you don’t want to think about it.  
  
  
~*~ _finis _~*~


End file.
